


My Shadow is Stuck

by caffeineguzzler



Category: South Park
Genre: Drug and Alcohol Use, Kenny's Marvelous Adventures of Dying, M/M, Past mention of Stan/Kyle, Suicide, Very Very brief mention of Kenny/Tweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 15:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13954641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeineguzzler/pseuds/caffeineguzzler
Summary: Mysterion thinks about his life as he's lying down on the train tracks, waiting for his new body.





	My Shadow is Stuck

**Author's Note:**

> [my shadow is stuck](https://open.spotify.com/track/6qOwmc4uXXMmZY2D5XOaBJ)

The railings of the train tracks dug uncomfortably onto his body, but it was nothing compared to the pain of the oozing lacerations and broken bones in his body. His shaking hands reached into the side of his suit and pulled out his last cigarette and a lighter.

Mysterion was going to die. 

Again, but not for long.

Life was mysterious and he was never too sure how it happened, but life was something he was constantly robbed of and gifted back. Was it a gift? He didn’t know. His eyes moved to stare at the starry sky, eyes slowly blinking. The train shouldn’t be more than a couple of minutes.

Most times he escaped with barely a scratch or a bruise, but sometimes he was too beaten and broken to make it home. Dying made it easier, gave him a new, clean slate, a new body to bend and break.

Maybe he was getting too old to run around town chasing petty criminals down into the woods. Maybe he was getting slow. Maybe his bones were getting too rickety for him to kick someone in the face. Maybe it was time to retire, he’s thought about it a thousand times. 

He’s thought about hanging the cape and making an attempt to survive longer than 2 weeks, but he thought about the dangers that hung around the town. The people he loved being in danger just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happened before. He had offed himself immediately, hoping his magic would work on them too. 

It didn’t, but it was okay.

He was okay. He had to be. He had to be there for the people he still had, the people left to protect. 

He thought about his mother. Carol tried her best to be a mother in the face of poverty, but poverty gripped its hands around her neck and kept her in its trap. The drugs and booze never made her a better mother. It never made him a better brother either.

Karen. She was a high school student then, studying meticulously to try and break out of the situation she was placed in. Mysterion was proud of her and his heart swelled with pride every time he saw her buried in books, every time she showed him how she aced her tests, every time she talks about her day. He never broke the mold, but if anyone in his shitty family was going to, it was going to be her.

Mysterion’s side job included cleaning out evil bathroom stalls and occasionally manning the registers and protecting the restaurant from villainous customers. It didn’t pay much, but it paid just enough for him to be able to pay off the bills and get Karen anything she needed. The bank held a little savings account for her. It was money that had slowly accumulated through many years of back-breaking work, but he hoped it would be enough to help Karen at least move out of the shitty town.

She was going to make it out of here and make something of herself. Something that she could finally be proud of. Something good that can come out of the McCormick family. If there was anything more that he could do to ensure her future, it was already done.

A trickle of blood ran down the side of his cheek. He thought about his friends. 

He remembered the many lines of cocaine he had snorted with Tweek, getting high as fuck together. As the two known druggies of their year, they felt like they had to stick together. There was one time they were so out of their mind and ended up making out and rolling around on his bedroom floor, only to result in an angry Craig picking Tweek up off of him and receiving a punch in the face. They still hung out after and laughed about it. Tweek said he got yelled at relentlessly by Craig, but it wasn't the first time it happened. Tweek looked so sheepish when he was telling him, and he could only snort in return. They never got as high as they did then, but they continued to share a some more kisses after. They were enjoyable, but he never felt anything more than a close, drug-addled friendship with Tweek.

Then there was Stan. Stan could be so hard to be with sometimes, when he was being sad and depressing, but he was always there for him, because he understood. He understood how hopeless the world felt, how bleak and bleary, unfair and shitty. Stan never understood when he smiled back at him, would ask what was going on in his mind, what was bothering him, but he never would have believed him. Never would have understood. They drank their cans of beer behind an abandoned building, singing their woes, keeping each other’s sides warm in the middle of the night, in the middle of the sea of stars, on nights just like these.

Craig was an easy guy to get along with, even if he did kiss his boyfriend. Craig called it even when he punched him in the face, said it was satisfying. They both laughed and he offered his face for Craig to punch again. Craig merely touched his cheek softly with his curled fist and laughed. He offered Craig a cigarette and Craig gladly took one. Craig lit his as he confided in him that day that he wished Tweek would get off the drugs. Wished they both would, he glumly said. It made him sad to see Tweek fucked up all the time, but he was afraid of what Tweek was like without it, because he’s never known him before the drugs. But he would never let Tweek know. Craig rubbed his eyes with balls of his fist. If Craig cried that day, he never found out, but he didn’t think he wanted to know. They both took a drag of their cigarettes.

He sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on the gravel the rails rested on. His mind wandered to a certain warmth. Warm brown eyes and an equally warm smile, warm auburn hair that glinted when the sun was out. 

Kyle had yelled at him before too. Yelled at him about the drugs and the booze. Kyle had shed many tears and yelled his throat raw at him. One time Kyle accidentally compared him to his father and realized his grave mistake immediately. He thought about how all the color fell from his face, shame apparent in his figure, but he didn’t apologize for it, because apparently it was true. It stung like a bitch, it felt like a slap to the face, but it  _ was  _ true. But he needed his vices. Kyle didn’t understand what it was like to die so fucking often, how much it hurt, how much it killed him inside.

He was hoping maybe, just maybe, if he met the right one, they’d be the one to remember him dying. Feel worried about him when he didn’t return phone calls or disappear for days. It wasn’t the case. Kyle would spout some random shit sometimes that didn’t happen when he actually died and all he could do was try his best to keep it together. He couldn’t let himself fall apart in front of Kyle and show him that he was dating an actual nutcase.

Was he a nutcase? 

Sometimes he hoped he was.

Maybe being a nutcase would be better than this. 

He love Kyle and Kyle loved him back. The way they had gotten together wasn’t a heartwarming love story, but one of convenience and comfort. Kyle used to come crying to him when Stan used to be his world. Whenever Stan fucked some new girl, here came Kyle. Whenever Stan brushed off Kyle’s attempts to confess to him, here came Kyle. When Stan got together with the boy from the other high school, here came Kyle, sobbing, heaving, falling apart at his feet. 

Piecing Kyle back little by little was a labor of love and patience and when Kyle bandaged his little broken heart together and let it beat, his dirty fingerprints were already all over him. Kyle kissed him when they were huddled together on Kyle’s couch, watching tv, and he kissed him back. Their lips rocked against each other, warm and soft, their breaths caressing each other. The show they were watching became mute and the only sounds left were the rustling of their clothes, the sounds of their lips, and the subtle moans that escaped them as they rutted onto each other.

Kyle was straddling his hips on couch, crouched over him, clothed hips rocking against him. Kyle asked him why they weren’t already together. He replied that he didn’t know, but he liked whatever it was they had and rocked his hips back up, grinding his hard-on against Kyle’s bottom. Kyle wanted something stable, something to label, something to claim for his own. He didn’t have much to give, but if Kyle wanted to claim him, then he willingly handed himself over.

Mysterion carefully lit the cigarette in between his fingers with his lighter, taking a rattly drag. Their kisses were warm and hot and passionate. They fucked like they wouldn’t see the coming day, pulled at each others’ hair and left marks in places they couldn’t hide. He wished Kyle would cry over something else. Maybe his deaths. But maybe that was shitty of him to ask of Kyle. To go through the pain of his lover dying over and over again.

But he was lonely and he just wanted someone to understand his pain.

No one knew who he was. No one knew he was Mysterion. 

A loud horn sounded off in the distance and the rails began to vibrate underneath him. Every pain in his body intensified and he groaned, his head felt like it was going to explode. He saw red behind his eyelids. 

Just in time. 

Mysterion took one lingering look at the starry sky, placed the cigarette between his lips and took a long, final drag. He smiled at the night sky and the rail began to visibly rattle. His bones rattled. His heart rattled. His soul rattled.

He exhaled.

The billowy smoke that came out of his lips was dispersed by the rumbling locomotive, the loud horn blaring once again through the air as if in salute.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally an idea I had for a cosplay music video but I'm too lazy to film it haha  
> Thank you for reading!   
> I can be reached at http://caffeineguzzler.tumblr.com !


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